


Smartphone

by TygerTyger



Series: Kink Meme Stories and General Smut [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-24
Updated: 2012-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-04 05:15:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/390162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TygerTyger/pseuds/TygerTyger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor learns about sexting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smartphone

**Author's Note:**

> From the [kink-meme prompt](http://eleventy-kink.livejournal.com/942.html?thread=3228590#t3228590):
>
>> _"can we have River teach Eleven sexting? And/or dirty talk, either is fine... seems like it would be even better in person, you know? ;). Maybe it's really hard for him to understand why you would say all of those "embarassing" things or something... but once River finally convinces him it's okay, it turns out he's REALLY RIDICULOUSLY AWESOME at it?? Or... something. Up to you!"_

The Doctor leaned over the TARDIS kitchen table, a mess of wires, ceramic plates and casing laid out in front of him. He pulled his goggles up onto his forehead and peered at the frayed ends of wires he was holding between two fingers.  He was just about to make a decision on whether or not to throw the whole lot in the bin and buy Amy new hair-straighteners, when she interrupted him.

“Doctor, your smartphone—”

“My what?”

“Your smartphone.” He looked up and she was holding a dark grey device aloft.

“That’s a temporal diagnostic interfacing device, not a _smartphone_. It has multiple functions,” he explained and returned his attention to the wires.

“But you can make phone calls on it…and send messages?”

“Well, yes, but it’s currently only capable of communicating with the TARDIS and other temporal diagnostic interfacing devices.”

“How many others are there?”

“Just one.”

“Is it River’s?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because what I was going to say, when you started being rude and arguing with me about what is and isn’t a smartphone, was, ‘Doctor, your smartphone has a text on it from River.’”

The Doctor froze and dropped the wires before standing up sharply and pulling the goggles off his head. “Oh, is there?” he said, smoothing his hair behind his ear in what he hoped was a casual manner. He approached Amy equally casually. “Can I have it?” He put his hand out and realised he was not disguising his panic in any way effectively.

Amy began the motion of passing the phone to him, then changed her mind. “You really don’t want me to look at that text do you?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said, re-tucking the already tucked strand of hair behind his ear.

“Is there something wrong? Has something happened to her?” She studied his face. “No, no, that’s not it…Why Doctor, you naughty boy!”

He tried to snatch the phone from her but she hid it behind her back. “Amy, give me the phone.”

“It’s a phone now is it? Oh, it must be good, the way you’re reacting!”

“If you ever want to be able to look me — or your daughter — in the eye again you’ll give me that phone right now!” He didn’t realise he was shouting until he stopped.

Amy’s thoughts played out on her face and her eyes widened in shock, she dropped the phone into his hand as if it were made of toxic goo.

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly, “and sorry for shouting.”

Amy blinked wildly, “Yeah, it’s okay, I’m just going to go and…yeah.” She marched off.

 

*   *   *

 

The Doctor relayed the incident; blushing furiously and avoiding River’s gaze — focusing instead on a fascinating bolt in the corner of the room. _Heptagonal, that’s rare for a bolt._

“Oh, poor Mummy!” she said. “You do know that her imagination has probably invented something far worse than anything she could have read?”

“Having read it, I doubt that very much.” He shifted uncomfortably and returned his attention to the bolt, which was rapidly becoming imprinted with the feelings he was trying to distract himself from. _Great, even bolts are sexy now_.

“You really don’t know Mummy at all, do you?” she said with a laugh. “The poor love is probably searching for the brain bleach as we speak.”

“You had to get it from somewhere I suppose,” he said and grimaced.

“If you really find it so embarrassing, I _can_ stop you know?”

His eyes shot up to hers, panic stricken. “Noooo!”

“But you seem mortified. And your replies are hardly encouraging: ‘thank you’ wasn’t really the response I was hoping for.”

“How is that not encouraging? I liked it and thanked you for sending it.”

“The point is for you respond with something of your own that would make me want to…thank _you_.”

He scratched his cheek nervously. “I’m not sure if I can, I mean, how…how does someone even come up with that sort of thing?”

“You mean, how do _I_ come up with that sort of thing?” River corrected, with a hint of fond exasperation. “Well, I have a thought and I want to share it with you so I type it out and send it.”

“That simple?”

“Why? Don’t you ever have those sorts of thoughts?” she asked, moving in to press herself against him, unaware that he was having _exactly_ those sorts of thoughts about an inanimate heptagonal bolt at that very moment.

He coughed.

“Well, yes, but writing them down is different.”

“I can teach you,” she said, kissing his throat and sliding her fingers down along his braces, thus leaving him no real option to refuse the offer.

“Okay.”

“Great,” she said, picking up his phone and dropping it into his hand before striding off. “I think we need to be sitting down for this,” she called back to him. He followed her, tripping over his own legs in the process.

 

They sat facing each other in comfy chairs.

“Now,” she said, “think of the last time you had a thought and type it in and send it.”

He skipped the last thought as it had been about a bolt and went back to an earlier one, typed an approximation and sent it. Her phone beeped and she read it, nodding lightly. She looked up at him uncertainly. “What?” he asked.

“Well, it’s a good start, but it’s barely a step above, ‘pick up milk on your way home,’ and you’ve gone to great pains to get your spelling and grammar perfect.”

“If we’re doing this,” he said, “I’m not going to use those strange abbreviations. Even the TARDIS can’t translate them.”

“Noted.” she said and began typing into her own handset, “Here. What about something like this?” She sent it and the doctor’s phone beeped.

He read it carefully and blushed. “I thought we were starting slow? But thank you for the good grammar.” 

“That is slow, and you’re welcome. Your turn.”

“Okay, based on yours…how about this?” He typed it quickly and hit send with a flourish.

She read it and made a happy hum. “Yes, that’s certainly more like it.” He watched her free hand move to her bare knee and make circles with her palm.

She tapped on her phone.

His beeped.

He looked at it and tilted his head sideways and then back the other way. “How does that work… logistically?”

“Does it have to?”

“Of course it does, it’s distracting when it doesn’t.  Your leg would need to be at a painful angle for this to work. Here, what about this?” he said, typing something lengthy and sending it.

“Oh,” she said in a near growl, sinking down into her chair, “that’s…well, that’s just…” She didn’t seem to be able to find a way to finish the sentence verbally so she stared at him and chewed on her lip, contemplating. He raised an eyebrow at her and felt himself harden under her, frankly lecherous, gaze.

He crossed his legs.

She sent another message.

He read it and an involuntary whimper escaped him; she was still leering at him. He noticed that she was circling her hips and her free hand was traversing her thigh, hitching her skirt higher as she let her legs fall open.  _No knickers._

He uncrossed his legs; the constriction was almost painful now. Her eyes dropped from his face to his crotch and she moistened her lips with a pink tongue.

He remembered his phone and began to type a message, aware that she was watching his thumb pressing the buttons and his long fingers wrapped around the device.

He sent it.

Her phone beeped and she, almost reluctantly, dropped her eyes to read it. They met his again and before he could react she had extracted herself from the chair, flung her phone away and was crossing towards him at speed.

He gulped as she grabbed his phone and sent it hurtling in the same direction as her own.  She straddled him and frantically unfastened his trousers to release his cock before sinking down onto it without ceremony.  She was indecently wet and she bounced on his lap sliding up and down the length of his erection. He pushed his hands up under her skirt and squeezed her arse cheeks together.

Barely a minute after she had started he could feel her hot swollen cunt begin to spasm around him as her orgasm took hold. Whether it was this, the build-up, or the shock of her sudden burst into action, he didn’t know. But he was coming so hard he was close to blacking-out from the sensation of his come stuttering out of him and up into her, ridiculously slick, pussy.

She collapsed down on top of him, placing a tender kiss on his lips before burying her face in his neck and laughing breathlessly. “I think you’re getting the hang of sexting.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't forget to feed the ~~pervs~~ anons over at the kink-meme!  
> http://eleventy-kink.livejournal.com


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